The Last Straw
by ch19777
Summary: You can only annoy Lisbon so many times before she gives you the silent treatment. And how do you make her forgive you? Jane knows: Come up with an elaborate scheme and overestimate your capabilities. Bring bandages, just in case.


_This is my second entry for the __ jello-forever(dot)proboards(dot)com August 2009 challenge with the prompt "Mistakes". This one is angst-free and fluffy. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: No matter how many stories I write, I still don't own the show. _

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It isn't my fault. At least not entirely. I'd blame the cat, but this furry little thing is too damn cute and fluffy to make her responsible for what happened. Lisbon sure doesn't. While she glared and yelled at me, she resorted to baby talk to calm down the trembling kitten. She gave undue preference to an animal, even though the cat wreaked the actual havoc and I can be pretty cute as well.

Life just isn't fair.

Since neither I nor the cat are really to blame, let's just call it an unfortunate series of events. A mishap. Slight negligence. Or, if you like, an assumption that proved to be incorrect. Really, it was only a tiny mistake.

Also, I wasn't gloating. I only responded to a comical situation with laughter. And I immediately got serious again when Lisbon darted a look at me that could kill.

Still, Lisbon gives me the silent treatment and she went home tonight without saying goodbye or wishing me a nice weekend. It really hurts, you know? How am I supposed to enjoy my days off when all I can think about is Lisbon still being mad at me? Once again I wallow in self-pity and recall the events that led to disaster.

The day began perfectly innocent. In fact, it started out really great. The sun was shining, I had slept really well and was in a very good mood when I arrived at work. And, to top it all off, I met Lisbon in the CBI parking lot. I held the door open for her and she rewarded me with a smile that conveyed she was in very good spirits as well.

It was that kind of smile, that always - even though she barely shows it - makes me believe that one day we could... well, arrive at work together. In the same car, if you know what I mean. I was even toying with the idea to invite her to some date-like, yet unsuspicious activity today after work.

So, the early morning was wonderful and the day also continued pleasantly. We got a new case, talked to some witnesses and the victim's family and before lunch I figured out the murderer's identity. Of course, nobody believed me, but this happens so often that it didn't ruin my good mood in the slightest. Eventually, Lisbon agreed to question the suspect after lunch.

The team had lunch together and that was the time when things started going downhill. It was Cho's brilliant idea to get Chinese food and it was really yummy and I might have eaten a little bit too much. Either way, after lunch my Kung Pao chicken felt like a heavy stone in my stomach and I got a little tired.

I lay down on the couch to rest while Lisbon recapitulated all the known facts of the case. And then, due to the combination of marvelous food and Lisbon's soothing voice, I must have briefly dozed off. How else is it to explain that the next thing I saw was the others walking out of the office?

At first, I was confused and wondered where they went. I also was stunned that neither of them looked back or called for me to follow. I saw them boarding the elevator and was just about to run down the stairs to meet them on the first floor, when everything started to make perfect sense.

I remembered that they wanted to bring in the guy I suspected of killing his girlfriend. According to Van Pelt's database research, he was previously convicted for drug trade, aggravated assault and illegal gun possession. In other words: The guy is dangerous. No wonder that Lisbon, deeply concerned for my well-being, decided to let me wait at the office until they brought him in for interrogation.

Usually, I'd have followed them anyway. But today, still feeling extremely sated and slightly sleepy, I respected Lisbon's order and went back to the couch. I had time for a good, relaxing nap before someone shouting my name woke me up.

It was unmistakably Lisbon's voice and when I heard it, it began to dawn on me that I might have misinterpreted the task she gave me. Having no idea what else but sleeping she had wanted me to do, I got up and walked over to her office to check out the extent of her annoyance.

The second I went through her door, I knew what was wrong. The penetrant smell gave it away and evoked memories of the pet my sister and I had as kids and of the time before said pet became housebroken. The scent of cat pee filled Teresa Lisbon's office and, cradling the furry culprit in her arms, she was clearly not happy about it.

The cat was the victim's and we took her from the crime scene to bring her to a nearby animal shelter - only to discover that it was closed during lunch time. So the kitten came with us, begged for leftovers when we ate and then Lisbon must have put her in her office and asked me to take her to the shelter.

I understand that the smell wasn't pleasant and that she was disappointed in me. What I don't understand is that she apparently thinks I did this on purpose. I did a few things in the past to irritate her, that's true. Okay, _many_ things. But would I purposely lock a tiny, frightened cat into her office for hours in hopes that the pet will relieve herself there? Certainly not.

It's just so sad that one tiny little mistake can ruin a day that began so promising. I apologized several times and did a million things to make her forgive me. I scrubbed the floor in her office, replaced her marred chair with a new one, made new copies of all the reports the cat chewed at, bought her three different air fresheners, tried to bribe her with chocolate, coffee and the cupcakes from the bakery down the street that she likes so much - all in vain.

Three and a half hours, one very explicit letter of apology under her windshield wiper and seven origami animals later she still ignores my phone calls. Maybe it wasn't the best idea that five of the seven animals were cats...

Now it's already dark outside, I can see the perfect full moon when I look out of my kitchen window. I suddenly think of my grandma. She always said, every time my sister and I were arguing, that it's okay to quarrel, but that you have to make up before going to sleep as you never know if you'll wake up the next morning. Granny would have liked Lisbon and she would have kicked my ass if she knew how I sometimes, occasionally get on Lisbon's nerves.

I pour myself a glass of water and sit down at the kitchen table, still racking my brain to find a way to propitiate Lisbon. There has to be _something_. I come up with some lousy ideas, but I scrap all of them. This is hopeless. I'll just have to wait until Monday and hope that she is ready to forgive me then.

I'm not sure how I'll survive the weekend though, I will need a lot of distraction. Some movies maybe, or...

Wait!

Suddenly I know _the_ solution. Of course!

I only hope I still have all the necessary equipment to put my plan into action. The first item is easy, I find it in the living room. I need to search half of the house for the second one, but I finally discover it in the basement. It is dusty and cobwebbed, but after I put in some batteries it is still working.

Not wasting another minute, I put the stuff in my car and drive over to Lisbon's home. There is still light in most of the windows and, to my relief, in those of Lisbon's apartment as well. Now it's time for action. I get out of the car and walk over the front lawn of the house until I have a perfect view at the window that I believe to belong to Lisbon's living room on the second floor.

I lift the heavy object above my head, press 'play' and wait for the boom box to work its magic.

I don't have to wait long for the first commotion. Stunned, partly angry faces appear behind the panes. Someone opens their window and shouts profanities. Then finally Lisbon shows up as well, her eyes wide as she recognizes me and opens her window.

"Jane? What the heck are you doing?" She shouts.

I briefly detach one hand from the blatant boom box to wave at her. I can see the irritation and bafflement in her face and I grin. Step one, getting Lisbon's attention, is accomplished. Now I have to keep doing this until she lets me come up to her apartment.

"Jane, are you insane?!"

"Please, let me come up!"

"No way!"

Okay, this will probably take a while. The neighbors revolt against me more and more fiercely. A very old woman with curlers in her silver hair threatens to call the police.

"Jane, if you don't stop this immediately, I'll call the police myself." Lisbon hisses through clenched teeth. At least I think that's what she says. I can't really hear her, the music is too loud.

Maybe it takes more than Peter Gabriel's voice to convince her. I set the device down on the ground, turn it off and then I begin to sing my favorite part of the song. Closing my eyes, I shout the words out and put all my frustration and devotion into them.

_"Love, I get so lost, sometimes  
Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart  
When I want to run away  
I drive off in my car  
But whichever way I go  
I come back to the place you are" _

Just when I start with the refrain, several things happen at once. I hear laughter and I hear nagging. I open my eyes. The laughter comes from Lisbon and I'm so taken aback by this discovery, that I forget the lyrics. This is not the reaction I was hoping for.

While my brain is still busy registering my hurt feelings, I become aware of a movement in a first floor window. Before I can fully comprehend what is happening, something cold, tin hits my forehead.

At first, it doesn't hurt. I am more stunned that a woman of such old age is able to pitch so unerringly. Then, suddenly, my head starts spinning and I slump to the ground, defeated by an ancient, petite woman with a soda can.

I hear footsteps and a cool hand touches my forehead. For a moment I am afraid that my elderly opponent came down to finish what she started. But then I hear Lisbon's voice and I open my eyes and smile when I see her worried expression.

My shaking hand reaches out to touch her face and my smile grows even wider when she doesn't back away. Even though my head hurts, my plan worked pretty well. Being worried about me is definitely better than being mad at me, right?

"Are you okay? Are you able to get up?" She asks, and I successfully struggle to my feet.

She eyes me, undecisively, for half an eternity and my heart misses a beat. She won't just leave me down here and go back to her apartment alone, will she? After all I went through tonight to get on her good side again?

"Fine, come with me. Your wound needs cleaning and I can't do this down here." She finally releases me.

I grin triumphantly. Too triumphantly, apparently, as she frowns. "Happy now, Jane, that you got what you wanted?"

Oh yes, I am. I'd be even happier if she wouldn't give the impression that taking me up to her place is the worst thing ever, but for now it's good enough for me.

I quickly scan her apartment when she gets some things from the bathroom - small, slightly messy, very comfy - and then settle down on Lisbon's couch. She comes back, sits down on the armrest and immediately begins to dab my bruise with some nasty, stinging fluid. Am I imagining this or does she take delight in my pain?

"Lisbon?"

"Hm?" She asks, still giving all her attention to my head wound instead of making eye contact.

"Are you still mad at me?"

"Yes." She tells me without hesitation, then she sighs and finally really looks at me. "No. Not really."

I'm so relived that I jump up to hug her, but a throbbing headache confounds this plan. Her worried look is back and she hurries to put some pillows behind my back to make me feel more comfortable.

I gently take one of her hands into mine and her other one abruptly stops fidgeting with the cushions.

"Thank you, Lisbon." I tell her and her eyelids flutter.

"Ehm, you're welcome." She answers uncertainly. "What for?"

"For forgiving me. For taking care of me after your neighbor assaulted me."

She slumps onto the couch next to me, sighing heavily. "Did I have a choice?"

"Yes, and you made the right one."

"I sometimes doubt that." She sighs again. This is not a good sign. "This week especially. You were really in your element, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Usually, you only annoy me two or three days a week, the other days you take a break." She explains.

This is new. My behavior follows a pattern? How did I never notice this? "Really? I do?"

"It's not like I keep a diary about you..."

"No?" I ask with a broad grin and waggle my eyebrows suggestively.

She completely ignores my remark, but with satisfaction I notice the slight redness that creeps up her neck.

"The point is," She diverts. "... this week you kept at it five days in a row.

Monday: You hypnotized a suspect even though you promised me not to do it.

Tuesday: You challenged Rigsby to put a peanut in his nose which resulted in me driving him to the ER and missing the ballet performance of my niece.

Wednesday: You got the two of us stuck in an elevator because you wanted to see what happens when you press three buttons at once and then faked claustrophobia to make me comfort you.

Thursday: You took my hand while we walked through the hallway to the office and refused to let go, not even when Minelli came our way. And then you weren't helping at all when you told him that we were just having a 'bonding moment'.

Today: The cat incident."

"Oh." It does sound pretty bad, all in all. "Now I understand why you reacted so extreme today."

"Good."

"I'm really sorry. Next time, just start the silent treatment a couple of days earlier to stop me from going on." I reassure her sincerely.

"You know, any other man would have promised to stop doing stupid things altogether."

"Well, we both know that this wouldn't work anyway."

"True." She admits and, infected by the smile I flash her, she shows me one of her own.

"And I'm not any man, am I?" I ask, looking her straight in the eye.

She blinks. Then she nervously swallows. Good. I lean in and our noses touch briefly. Before she can say anything, I press my mouth against hers.

Her lips are full, soft, sweet - and they don't respond to my kiss at all. It feels like she is paralyzed. I finally plucked up the courage to kiss her and she isn't doing anything. This is not good for my self-confidence, not good at all. I guess it's time to stop embarrassing myself and leave while I still have my emotions in check. I certainly won't cry in front of her.

I pull back and release her out of my embrace, looking away to not let her see how hurt I am. Suddenly I feel her hand on my cheek and I turn around again to discover that her face is very close to mine and her eyes bore into me.

"Jane." She says, and the way she says it, so gently and lovingly, makes my heart flutter.

This time, _she_ initiates the kiss. I respond immediately when I feel her tongue grazing my lower lip. My arms wrap around her again as her tongue explores my mouth, and I moan at the sensations she evokes within me. Her hand reaches behind my head, and her fingers nestle themselves in my hair. Our tongues battle for dominance, and I run my hands over her back, feeling soft skin underneath her shirt.

We have to break apart for air eventually, both breathing heavily. All of a sudden, I am grateful for my short attention span, for kittens with overactive bladders and for old, violent-tempered women. Without those, who knows how long it would have taken until I finally get the girl?

"Is it okay if we count the second kiss as our first one?" I ask teasingly and she lays her head on my chest with a giggle.

For a while I just hold her, play with strands of her dark hair.

"You know, I wanted to do this since I saw 'Say Anything' for the first time." I break the comfortable silence between us.

She looks up, startled. "Kissing me?"

"No. That dream came later, when I first met you. I meant standing under a girl's window and serenading her with 'In Your Eyes'."

"And you chose me as your victim?"

"I didn't know what else to do anymore. I only wanted you to talk to me again. Singing myself made it even more special than only playing it, didn't it?"

"Special? That's one way to describe it. Some people might call it off-key." She mocks me.

"Hey, I sing really well." I protest. "I was in the elementary school choir and the choirmaster always was full of praise."

"My neighbors seems to think otherwise." She goes on teasing me.

"Meh, philistines."

I cover her lips with mine again and in no time we are making out like horny teenager. Lisbon is afraid that this is all too much for my hurt head, but right now my head is not my main priority.

"Jane?" She asks as I lower her body onto the couch.

"Yes?"

"Just don't ever again sing in public, okay?" She demands with an impish smirk.

Thinking of the bruise I suffered, I promptly assure her this. After all, I don't want to make the same mistake twice. No, I won't sing in public anymore. But I will still sing in the shower.

In _her_ shower, tomorrow morning.


End file.
